


Amazed By the Grace in Your Backyard

by orphan_account



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Gods, Navel-Gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:24:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He wants to dip his hands and feet into that pond. He wants to drown in it.An exploration of Kaname's feelings. Written after Book 1.





	

Lying on his back, the strict lines of his tatami mat pressing into him, Kaname watches the play of light flicker over his ceiling.

  
He has not seen the shadowed disturbance that shows his quick flash of scale is there, and it hurts him a little that he is glad. Tanuma, upon meeting Natsume, has begun to worry that he is greedy.. He wants to dip his hands and feet into that pond. He wants to drown in it.

  
But he can’t. No matter how often he lies in the yard. The only thing that really happened, was the hives he got from the grass.

  
Tanuma rolls onto his side away from the light, back to the sunset.  
Which was being blocked by a distinct shape.

  
Tanuma blinks, and the shape leapt downward, revealing itself as Nyannyan-sensei, his legs waddling slowly across the yard towards Tanuma. He looks around, sitting up a bit, checking for Natsume.

  
Who was nowhere in sight.

  
Well, that was all right. Kaname prefers to have his doors shut, blocking the light when Natsume came over.

  
Tanuma stands, and watches Nyannyan-sensei walk up to him, white paws skirting the large irregular circle that is the pond in his yard, and he walks over to meet him, standing at the end of his porch, curling his toes over the edge.

  
When he reaches him, Kaname smiles and tells him, “Come in.”

  
He slides open his partition door, and Nyannyan-sensei steps past him. Tanuma watches him with barely concealed delight.

  
He is a rotund little thing, with rounded paws and a squashed face. His eyes however radiate a sly intelligence, an old cunning. Nyannyan-sensei sits down at the low table, sitting elegantly upright on the one cushion Tanuma has, looking at the low table expectantly.

  
Tanuma stares at him for a long moment, and it isn’t until the cat turns and raises one eyebrow at him that Tanuma startles into awareness.

  
He also blushes fiercely.

  
“Let me go get you some tea.” Inspiration strikes him suddenly. “And some food. I bet you’re hungry if you walked here from Natsume’s house.”

  
Tanuma looks at him for another long moment, bows abruptly, and then all but dashes out of the room.

  
His father is thankfully inside of the temple, so when Tanuma makes tea for two and heats up the leftovers from the night before, there is no one there to question him. As the water heats, he hangs his head in quiet despair. Had he really bowed?

  
Tanuma walks back, thoughts anxious, a tray carefully held between two hands. He kneels to set the tray down before sliding open the door.

  
Nyannyan-sensei is exactly where he left him, and the cat remains still, only those eyes watching him as he pours tea, and sets down dishes of food. He might have gone a little overboard.

  
But when he looks up the cat is watching the table with unnatural glee and Tanuma decides it must be alright.

  
Nyannyan-sensei leans forward and laps at the tea, his eyes closing in pleasure.

  
“You make good tea, boy. Do you mind,” and there is a shuddering rippling feeling to the air, and Tanuma’s breath catches in his throat, “If I drink it in a different form?”

  
Tanuma shakes his head slowly, and straightens his posture a bit. The man’s prescence seems to demand it.

  
He is beautiful. There are no other words, and though Tanuma has never thought of another person as beautiful, he does now.

  
Tanuma watches long slender fingers pick up their cup, and those gold, lantern eyes close in pleasure, long white lashes fluttering, showing high cheekbones. His hair is also white, pulled carelessly back with a tie, but it lies in curls and snarls down his back.

  
He opens his eyes, regarding Tanuma with a small smile curving his lips, and Tanuma jerks his gaze down, blushing furiously.

  
He hears the other man make an amused noise, and looks back up cautiously. He’s smiling at him, and the swirling scarlet markings on his face make this a more interesting sight than it should be.

  
“It’s rare,” Nyannyan-sensei murmurs, and Tanuma’s pulse races at the sound of that voice, rich and deep, no longer squeezed from being inside of the hollow ceramic body, “To see anyone these days who offers me respect in all the forms I take.”

  
Tanuma nods slowly, unsure what to say. How could he not be respectful when he had spent his life waiting to truly see?

  
It is this thought that forces his eyes away from the table, and back up to Nyannyan-sensei. If this is the only time he is ever able to do this, he wants to truly see. He wants to carve it into him.

  
His yukata is one layer, rich silk embroidered in deep blue, and flickering orange. It is hard to make out the design. Tanuma stares for a long moment, before realizing it is changing. The orange lights, are fireflies, suns, koi, a huge coiling dragon.

  
“Um,” Tanuma asks, and is proud of how steady his voice is. “Not that I am not happy you are here but… what happened?”

  
Silence, except for the sound of Nyannyan-sensei eating. It’s certainly a neater affair when he has hands to hold his chopsticks, but still the rate is alarming.  
“Ano… Nyannyan-sensei…”

  
The man bangs his fist into the table, and looks at him, those golden eyes suddenly furious. “That is not my name!” He shouts, and Tanuma tries very hard not to scoot away. The man leans back with a huff, watching his ceiling. His head lolls to the side, and he is regarding Tanuma blankly. Tanuma, whose heartbeat may never return to normal.

  
“Call me Madara.” The man finally says, and his voice is tired. Tanuma nods, and before he can stop himself, the name is rolling out of his mouth, slow like he's tasting it.

“Madara.”

  
The man smiles at him, slow and somehow wicked, and Tanuma flushes again, his cheeks burning with the force of it.

  
“Yeah kid,” Madara murmurs, picking back up his chopsticks. “Just like that.”

  
The sun has almost set, leaving his backyard a haze of plum and deepening twilight. He wonders idly how the pond looked in such light, and for the first time the thought did not sting as sharply.

  
Nya- no, Madara, is scraping the last bit of rice into his mouth, and when he puts down the bowl he sighs with satisfaction.

  
“Hey kid,” He starts and Tanuma interrupts him shyly.

  
“You can call me Kaname.” He says, and when the spirit just looks at him he says hurriedly, “Because you told me your name.”

  
The spirit hums for a long moment, and then grins at him, sharp, unnatural white teeth.

  
“Ka-na-me.”He murmurs, the sounds dropped from his mouth in a purring growl. Kaname’s mouth goes dry at the sound.

  
Madara looks at him for a long moment before he stands, and Kaname follows the movement almost unconsciously with his eyes.

  
“Let’s go sit on your porch, Kaname.” And Tanuma is standing before Madara has finished speaking.

  
“So.” Tanuma says clearly. Madara is sprawled beside him, one arm propping his head up, leg bent, which pulls the yukata open disgracefully, but by some trick does not reveal too much. “What happened between you and Natsume?”

  
Madara huffs, a barking cough that sounds too big and feral for the body he inhabits.

  
“I don’t want to talk about Natsume.” Kaname looks at him, and nods slowly. With a sigh he flops backwards. Out here, so far from the city, the sky looks huge and the richness of it amazes him.

  
“Kaname,” And he turns his head, only to stare into glowing golden eyes. His breath catches and his body tightens. In fear, and in….

  
Madara is smiling at him.

  
“For the hospitality given this wandering spirit, I give thanks.” And he speaks as though invoking ritual. “And in thanks, I give you sight.”

  
Madara rolls over him, hands planted on either side of his head, and grins again.

  
“Now hold still, kid.”

  
Kaname closes his eyes and something wet bathes his cheek, lapping at his eyelid in wet circles. He squirms and Madara leans closer, trapping him with his body, before doing the same to his other eye, lapping at him, sticky and wet.

  
It feels like an eternity before he pulls back, rolling off of Kaname with a playful grace, and Kaname sits up shakily, rubbing at his eyes. They no longer feel wet, and when he blinks them open he gasps.

  
In the center of his lawn is a beautiful pond, lit up seemingly from within and Kaname watches the red fish in the center swim round and round until his eyes blurr with tears.

  
“It won’t last forever.” Madara warns from beside him and Kaname turns to him with a face still wet.

  
“Thank you. Thank you.” Madara huffs a little and looks away, the movement uncharacteristically endearing in his current form.

  
“It’s no big deal ki-Kaname.”

  
Kaname just stares forward, watching the glimmer flash of the koi, which is not just red, but scarlet and carmine flickering flashes of scale. He doesn’t know how to tell him it's everything.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sit on the porch, and watch [the pond](honeyedlion.tumblr.com).


End file.
